


A Quick Study

by Kenz



Category: Ever After (1998)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenz/pseuds/Kenz
Summary: "'There is nothing more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.'" Henry whispered."Oh? Did you dig deeply through The Odyssey to find that turn of phrase, or have you held it to your breast all these years, sire, hoping to use on the right lady?" The princess quipped, a sly grin gracing her cheeks as she looked to her lap. Henry was playing with her hair, fingers sliding through tresses, slowly undoing what braids the handmaidens had so carefully constructed for her grand debut as Danielle, Princess of France. He smirked, remembering the looks that swept across the faces of Rodmilla de Ghent and her daughter, Margherite. He was quite surprised of the kindness and grace shown to the wicked women by their "Cinderella," however, the entire kingdom would speak of Danielle's magnanimous speech and punishment.Their wedding had been a quick affair: nothing near the pomp and glamour of his near-miss with the princess of Spain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for Zoe

"'There is nothing more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.'" Henry whispered.

"Oh? Did you dig deeply through The Odyssey to find that turn of phrase, or have you held it to your breast all these years, sire, hoping to use on the right lady?" The princess quipped, a sly grin gracing her cheeks as she looked to her lap. Henry was playing with her hair, fingers sliding through tresses, slowly undoing what braids the handmaidens had so carefully constructed for her grand debut as Danielle, Princess of France. He smirked, remembering the looks that swept across the faces of Rodmilla de Ghent and her daughter, Margherite. He was quite surprised of the kindness and grace shown to the wicked women by their "Cinderella," however, the entire kingdom would speak of Danielle's magnanimous speech and punishment. 

Their wedding had been a quick affair: nothing near the pomp and glamour of his near-miss with the princess of Spain. Though he couldn't understand her words, he definitely understood her pain—the pain of a match unwanted, the frustration with station in life, and the anger of a love forbidden. His and Danielle's wedding had been a much quieter event, secreted in the castle's private, ornate chapel, and shared only between the King, Queen, Leonardo, the most loyal of subjects, and God. His princess did not want to waste needless coin on something so simple as a joining of souls. 

Though Henry had been blessed with the gold that came with his lot in life, he was quite interested in her sense of frugality, in her robust life, and in her subdued femininity. Even when he met her, Henry did not know there were women who were interested in books more than brooches. As he had mingled with the ladies of court, he found that many of them had been taught only to make themselves beautiful and he knew this wasn't fair. Though the best of science disregarded women as simple tools for the furthering of mankind, Henry found that a woman's mind could distinguish, analyze, define, compare, and learn as well as any man's. Danielle had quickly proved this at every turn, with every wit.

"I see m'lady has read the great epics." He sighed, again, matched for intelligence. He kissed the point where her neck met her right shoulder and she relaxed into his lips. This was skin untouched by Henry thus far. After his "rescue" of Danielle, they had wed, but not until morning. That evening, she was whisked away to a guest bedroom full of silks and velvets, though she chose the most practical of dresses to wear. Only when servants had come to dress her and her hair did she wear more ostentatious clothing. Now as they sat, alone with Leonardo's painting, did the time come for these caresses. 

"Of course. While my father was alive, he only saw it fit for me to be educated as he would educate any child, boy or girl." Her head tipped slightly as Henry's lips traveled along her shoulder. His hands unlaced the back of her gown carefully, one loop at a time. He wasn't in any hurry to force the moment. 

"It was oddly progressive for a man of his sta-tion." Her voice jumped in pitch at the last syllable. Henry's soft fingers froze and he looked up from her creamy skin. "Love?" he asked, brows furrowed at her reaction. Danielle bit her lip and wrinkled her forehead in the way she did when she wasn't sure how to proceed in a situation. The wounds from her sound lashing had not yet healed. The women who helped her dress had noticed, but Danielle had asked them not to mention anything to anyone else; that moment this morning seemed so far away now, she hadn't even considered the possibility that Henry might see the scarring skin. Though there was still a layer of fabric between his fingers and the angry scratches, she still felt the pain. 

He straightened and brought a hand to her cheek, turning her face towards him slightly. "Are you alright?" He asked, clearly knowing something was amiss.

"Yes, Henry, I am fine." She smiled tenderly, looking over the shoulder he had been kissing. 

Meaning to explore the tendrils of her hair again, he trailed his fingers up her back, but stopped once more when he noticed her wince. "Danielle, please." He implored. "Please tell me." She responded by looking into her lap. He noted where his hand was and brought both to the lacing of her gown. "May I?" he asked, softly. She nodded, but said only, "Please do not become angry over what you find, my Lord." 

This concerned him deeply. He began unlacing the gown as quick as he could without jostling her or ripping the fabric. He carefully undid the back of her undergarments as well, freezing solid over the appearance of her back. Though partially healed, the obvious freshness of her wounds stunned him. Upon looking, he also noticed the white scarring of old wounds, the same treatment given to Danielle many previous times. Seething, he hissed "Who?"

Danielle, holding her gown around her waist so it would not fall off, turned around so that she was facing Henry. "You know very well who, my love. But you also know 'of all the creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.'" She brought a hand to his cheek, and let the other rest on his hand. "My stepmother despised me, blamed me for her lot in life, for my father's death, for their loveless marriage. While I believe that unjust, I also think that repaying her harm in kind would be unjust."

He stared into her eyes, his thoughts raging, telling him to destroy the evil women who would dare touch Danielle, who no doubt had done nothing to deserve this punishment. "Why?" His voice was still low and dark.

"I punched my step-sister in the face after she made a comment about my mother. Then Margherite destroyed my father's copy of Utopia, the last book he ever gave me. I hardly felt the whip, I was in so much pain over that book." Danielle looked down and away. 

Henry softened at her memory of pain. He pulled her close, careful not to touch her back, and weaved his fingers into her hair. "I'm so sorry." He lamented, kissing her temple. 

She sighed and cleared her throat. "It's behind us, my prince." She whispered, closing the door on her past. She told Rodmilla she would never think of her again, and though that was not quite true, she wanted it to be. 

"Oh Danielle," he sighed and her breath hitched as he rested his hand at the very small of her back, below the lashing. 

"Say it again." She echoed, a memory of his confession in front of the vile man's castle, a near lifetime ago.

"Danielle." He breathed the word into her ear, the sound of her name, each syllable a sin on his lips. She had imagined his lips forming her name, waking in the night from heated dreams, at times dipping a hand between her thighs to soothe the warmth that came over her. Though ladies were taught to ignore such places on their bodies, Danielle had oft made company of servants, wanderers, and courtesans, never failing to learn from anyone she met. The women who made a living selling their bodies told Danielle that there was a world of pleasure a woman could give herself if she only explored her own body.

Now, as Henry spoke her name so quietly and so intimately, that warmth came over her again, sharper than ever. His fingers rubbed small circles at the base of her spine as his tongue traced the shape of her ear. She was surprised at how much her body betrayed her need of his caress. Though she had kissed a couple men in her life (most notably Gustav, who had quickly decided it was not her lips he wanted, but her personality, her ruggedness, her masculinity), no one made her skin react like Henry, her match in every way.

As she relaxed into his touch, her dress began to fall where she held it, tipping off her shoulders completely, and only held by her slackening arm. Henry pulled back, much to her discontent, to stare at Danielle. Her barely parted lips and eyelids draped duskily over eyes invited him in and made his groin twitch with desire. He dragged a finger lightly from her breastbone to the neckline of her dress, suggesting a direction, but not quite pulling. Every movement was a question, despite his desperate want. 

She surprised him slightly by instead, reaching up to untie his shirtsleeves at the neck, as most of his clothing had been shed at the door of their bedchambers. He obligingly tossed his shirt aside, revealing an expanse of lean muscle under light brown skin. Danielle ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, pleased with the softness of the black hair that began there and ran surreptitiously below his waistline. As she traced the hair, he shivered involuntarily, heat rising through his body. When he raised his eyes to hers, they were dark with lust. 

His hands rose to her dress, and Danielle smiled, smoothly letting the garment fall from her arms to her waist in the sitting position, taking her underclothing with it, and freeing her breasts. Unable to wrench his eyes from her half-lidded expression, his fingers traveled from her hair down to her neck to her breastbone again, before cupping one breast and gently letting a thumb travel over her nipple. He watched closely for her reaction, for her sharp intake of breath at the sensation and she pressed her lips to his and kissed him with more passion than even after his confession of love. His tongue traced her upper lip as his hand dipped from her breast lower, grasping her waist and pulling her close to him. He moaned into her lips, a startling sound they both did not expect. She buried her hands in his hair, grasping the black tresses to press him ever closer to her, and she gasped, "Henry," as he moved from her lips to the hollow below her ear.

She leaned back, sitting on her arms, as the fabric pooled in her lap and Henry kissed her neck and ear. He pulled back to look at the dress that now sat in her lap, and back up to her eyes, another question. "You first." She whispered, hesitantly. 

He got off the bed and stood, stripping himself of the rest of his clothing, bearing his nakedness to her. Her eyes raked over his body and its interesting differences to her own, differences which she had never considered especially erotic until she saw them in this context. From her position on the bed, he leaned down and kissed her, more sweetly and softly than she dared to expect, Henry's restraint and respect of her pacing evident. He gently lifted her to standing while they kissed, so they could finally be rid of the red velvet, and held her tightly while his lips teased against hers. Taking steps to control his own need, he made sure he did not touch her wounded skin and instead explored her naked shoulders, arms, and backside, letting his hands follow the gentle curve.

"You seem quite sure of yourself, my princess." He smiled to himself. Danielle was surefooted in most things. "Have you been consorting with Protestants?" He held her hand while she stepped from her dress, leaving them both completely naked, spiritually and physically.

She brought her lips to his ear. "Do not tell the King of France." A grin spread across her lips and quiet giggle burst from both of them. They began to sway back and forth, simply holding each other's bodies, not necessarily needing to take things further, simply reveling in this newfound intimacy. "In truth, sire, I have consorted with many in your kingdom."

He stopped swaying for a moment, composing a thought. "You will make a wonderful Queen then, for our kingdom." He rested his head against Danielle's while they moved. "Why do you still call me sire?" He asked curiously. 

"Servant's burden." She shrugged. "It's not quite habit for me to think so highly of my position. And I suppose now I am simply servant to all of France."

"It sounds such the weight when presented that way." He interjected.

She pulled back to look into his eyes. "As it should be. Did The Odyssey teach you nothing, my love? A King is no king at all if he suffers from hubris. To rule without the suffering of your people on the forefront of your mind would be...callous." She finished.

"Even in our marriage bed, you lecture me on politics." He leaned forward to kiss her mouth, fully, but more gently than before. Lust abated as love and respect flowed through him. "So what people have you consorted with?" He said between kisses.

"Oh...the usual." Her hands threaded into his hair while they continued to kiss, pulling his face even closer. "Sheepherders." His hands gripped her sides. "Servants." He pulled her hips against his, trapping his erection between them. "Artists." She ran her tongue along his lower lip. "Courtesans." She punctuated the word by pulling Henry's lip with her teeth slightly.

She reached between them and ran a hand up his shaft. His knees nearly buckled from the sudden sensation. "Oh?" His voice shook slightly. "And what have they taught you?" 

Danielle began to kiss his neck and he groaned aloud as her hand repeated its motion, now stopping to run her thumb softly over the tip. Her fingers casually explored the silky texture and foreskin, pulling it gently. Henry reached his hand towards the bedpost, for fear his knees would fail him. "You are oddly silent, my—" he was interrupted by his own moan as she quickly knelt in order to kiss him. "Oh....God." He whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Oh, they apparently taught—Oh." She took him in her mouth, challenging him to keep trying to speak. When he did not do so, she continued.

"Danielle." He gripped the bedpost tighter after a moment, "I won't be able to last long if you keep—" His breathing became more labored. "God. Erm, I—darling wife, please," he begged. Danielle hid a smile as she stood, like a champion trying not to boast of her victory. Henry's legs buckled from the weight of sensation, falling back onto the bed and staring, bewildered, at his lovely wife. "I..." he trailed off.

"They taught me much, if you must know. They taught me a woman should have happiness in her marriage bed as well, and if a man could not be taught, that she could give it herself." She said this last part more quietly, as she stood before Henry's sitting form. He rested his head against her soft middle. "Speechless?" She asked, trailing a finger through his hair and down his back, honestly concerned, but also a little bit smug at the current turn of events.

He began to press his lips to her skin, tipping his head down to kiss her lower. Her breath was gone with a quiet "oh." Her hands pressed his head into the curls his lips began to find and in a movement, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her beside him on the bed. Before she knew it, he had pulled her on top of him and she looked down at him with startled, smiling eyes.

"I should have known you would be wanton and lustful." He said, quietly, and with a betraying smile on his face. He was so pleased with this side of her. "With so much passion, so much conviction, how could I ever think you would not bring that to every part of your life? I love you Danielle du Barbarac. I love you. I love you." He finished by pulling her face down and kissing her intensely, trying to match her passion. 

He pressed his body against hers as they tangled. His hand slipped between them, burying his fingers in heat and he rolled their bodies as to lay on their sides facing one another. He could more easily touch her this way. She moaned against his lips as she felt him hit the center of her pleasure again and again. "They've taught me things, too." He whispered as Danielle's body began to quake from the sensation. He slipped inside her with his fingers, and slowed down their pace monumentally.

The tone changed as well. Though she knew he was still buzzing with need and anticipation, he became very serious. His fingers slowed and she pulled slightly away to look at him. "I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to own you. You are not mine to own. Other men think they have reign over women, but I know you are your own person. Please tell me if I am harming you in any way." 

She nearly laughed. It was just like them to be so serious while his hand was buried between her thighs. Perhaps they would discuss the ethical tenets of leadership as well. "I will." She said softly, punctuated by a gasp as his thumb circled her. Carefully, he slipped another finger in her body, stretching as to limit the potential painfulness of what they were about to do. "When did you ever visit the ladies of the night?" Danielle wondered aloud, her voice fluctuating as she spoke.

His words were slow due to concentration on his hand and what it was doing, "Some servant women here in the castle used to be in that...line of work. Not that they would divulge this to any of us, of course. But little boys can be sneaky when hiding from their lessons, and they listen." He stopped as she moaned loudly and grinned. "So when I was older...and had questions..." He invited what little room Danielle's mind had left for pleasant conversation to finish the statement. When she started to roll her hips into Henry's movements, he ducked down and kissed her breasts, then her stomach, and eventually down to where his fingers slid over her. She rolled so that she was flat, her elbows placed to keep her back from touching the bed. His eyebrows shot her a question, but she nodded down at him to continue, her face flushed from his touch. He climbed between her legs and when his teasing tongue caressed her she gasped aloud, gripping the bedclothes where her hands rested. "Oh Henry." She mumbled as he reached up to ghost his fingers over her nipples. "I assure you..." she breathed, "I never learned about—Oh!" 

Her body began to shake with the burgeoning orgasm, and her hand gripped tighter to the fabric. He throbbed with need at hearing the desperation of her voice. He now understood how incredibly overwhelming it could be for a lover to say one's name. He understood why she wanted him to whisper her name instead of an apology when he came for her. Why saying her name was an apology. He felt her muscles pulse around his fingers as she came, with a loud, intense moan, falling back and calling out from both the pain and the pleasure.

He climbed up and lay down next to her on his side once more, breathing deeply, wiping his mouth with his arm while glancing over at Danielle. She was biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut, and attempting to recover. "Are you alright, my love?" He asked, concerned that she had fallen to the bed and probably agitated her wounds. She pursed her lips and nodded. "I didn't expect this." She whispered calmly.

"Hmm?" He asked.

"I didn't expect my husband to do such lovely things for me." She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Well," he lightly ran his hand over her belly and she squirmed against the heightened sensitivity in her skin. "The ladies did tell you a husband ought to give his wife happiness as well, didn't they?" He smirked, removing his hand.

"Well yes, I just did not expect mine to do so with such..." she paused, looking away and searching for the right word in this cloudy moment. "...purpose." She looked back at her husband who was grinning.

"I could listen to you speak for hours, enchanted by every word." He whispered between them. They would have many more intimate moments, simply staring at one another in the aftermath of so sweet a statement. For every beat that passed, their love swallowed an eternity.

Danielle pushed herself up on her side, ignoring the pain now and let her hand trace down his side—she noted the incredible warmth of his skin. His arms were cozy, a home to keep her from the cold. His erection had softened some in the previous moments, but as she touched him his head tilted back and she could feel him hardening in her hand. "What can I do for you, my love?" She asked. "I want to give you what you gave me." She smiled. "Perhaps we could..." she trailed off

He opened his eyes and looked at her and raised an eyebrow, "have sex?"

"How vulgar!" she laughed loudly, stopping the movement of her hand. When her laugh calmed to an uneven smirk she commented, "The royal knows the language of his people."

"A prince of the people!" he cheered himself in a fake toast.

"Indeed." She began moving her hand again. "For the record, yes that is what I was referring to."

"Well, yes my love..." Henry paused as his concentration slipped, "however...I wouldn't want to lay you on your back."

"Well there is quite a simple solution to that," she whispered pushing him onto his back and climbing over him. She straddled his thighs, still stroking him. He was unable to look at her as she did so, closing his eyes against the waves of pleasure her touch elicited. She moved to hover over him, using a hand between them to guide their joining. She lowered herself slowly and Henry made no move to quicken things. The stretch was new, not quite painful but close. "Let me pause to accommodate you, my dear." She whispered once she had taken him in completely.

"Anything for you." Henry said in a breath, opening his eyes. He gazed upon her sitting above him, the curve of her soft breasts, her closed eyes and bit lip as she experienced this newness. He felt his hands move to her hips as if of their own accord, and as she began to move, to study what her body could do, he felt lightening course through his body. He was quickly losing the ability to focus clearly, but while it lasted, he centered on her face. In the candlelight it was a warm soft shade, fading and brightening with the sway of the flames. Her eyes were tightly shut in concentration, and as he finally succumbed to the powerful sensation with a hoarsely whispered, "Danielle," he couldn't help being amazed by her—that even in this moment she was observing, cataloging, learning.

"Oh, Henry," Danielle sighed, pulling her hair over her shoulder and gently rocking her hips. Her hands rested on his abdomen, but moved to his chest as she added slight upward movement, eliciting a deep moan from his lips. As she became more attuned to his sounds, she shifted and pulsed her body to make them come louder and more frequently. Her hands craved the black waves of his hair and she let herself lean forward to bury them there.

"My God!" Henry exclaimed as her arms settled on either side of his head, hands beneath, and slid forward and back rhythmically. His knees rose to support them as he thrust his body up to meet her. He took in every delicious exclamation that poured from her tongue as they joined together, every instance of his name, every wordless moan, every call to their Lord above. The sounds enveloped him as he slipped his hand between them to touch her, as her voice climbed higher. He could barely hold on, to bear the pressure building in his body, but as her rhythm slipped and he could feel her body quake around him, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Remembering in the last moment not to wrap his arms around her back, his hands returned to her hips and he held her tightly as she drew the life from him. If Henry was a swearing man, he would have sworn in that moment his spirit passed from his body as the world cascaded down around him. And Danielle would no doubt tell him he was being frivolous and extravagant. 'If a royal cannot be frivolous and extravagant, then who can be?' he would quip, and she would smile at him in the way she always did when she was right.

This silly daydream played out in his mind as he fell gently back down from the blackened sky and became aware of the collapsed form above him. He lifted his hands from her hips to softly palm her shoulders, as if to say, 'yes, I am here again now, my love.' 

Danielle lifted her head and smiled down at him before leaning to kiss him. It was sweet, short, the period at the end of a luxurious and truly remarkable passage in a particularly delightful tome. They separated yet remained intertwined, laying on their sides. 

"The woman who knows everything." He whispered between them.

She grinned, and pressed her fingers through his locks, pushing them away from his face. "Merely a quick study."


End file.
